my process

what inspires me

working together

I've always been drawn to work that lingers—films that stay with you long after they end, music that makes you feel before you understand why, poetry that captures what you didn't know you were trying to say.

I return often to films like Arrival, The Hours, and Labor Day—stories that understand the weight of time and the intimacy of small, seemingly ordinary moments. I get lost in artists like Half Moon Run, The Lumineers, Max Richter, Ólafur Arnalds, and Patrick Wilson because their work holds the same kind of emotional depth I'm trying to create. I love to read works by Louise Glück, Sally Mann, and Paulo Coelho, because it reminds me that the most meaningful things are often the most subtle.

I find inspiration in museums, architecture, in the way light falls across a room at a specific time of day. I'm endlessly fascinated by the way people move through space, the gestures they repeat without thinking, the quiet rituals people repeat without thinking—the ones that reveal, without explanation, exactly who they are.

I have two wild little boys of my own. Our home looks a little different every time I walk through it. But the thing that keeps me grounded in this work is how the changes show up in the most ordinary moments—the 6:30am breakfast negotiations, the look my husband and I give each other when the boys say something absurdly adorable.

I know what it is to be inside a season and feel it moving too fast, and it's what shapes how I see and document your family.